empty.
“Dr. Court?”
She stopped and looked over at a man just rising from a typewriter. “Yes.”
“I'm Detective Roderick. If you're looking for Captain Harris, he's in a meeting with the chief.”
“I see.” He was the suit-and-tie sort, she observed. Though his jacket was slung over the back of his chair, his tie was neat and straight. She decided Ben would never wear one. “Is he expected back?”
“Yes. If you'd like to wait, he shouldn't be too much longer.” He grinned, remembering the day before. “I can get you some coffee.”
“Ah…” She looked at her watch. Her next patient was due in forty minutes. It would take her half of that to get back to her office. “No, thanks. I don't have much time myself. I have a report for the captain.”
“The profile. You can give it to me.” When he saw her hesitation, he went on, “I'm assigned to the case, Dr. Court.”
“Sorry. I'd appreciate it if you could see Captain Harris gets this as soon as he comes in.” Unzipping her briefcase, Tess drew out the file. “If he has any questions, he can reach me in my office until five, then at home until seven. I don't suppose you can tell me if there's been any progress?”
“I wish I could. At this point we're going back over the same ground, hoping we missed something the first half-a-dozen times.”
Tess glanced at the file and wondered if he could really understand the man she'd written about. Could anyone? Dissatisfied, she nodded and handed over the file. It looked harmless, but so did a bomb at rest.
“Thank you.”
A lady, he thought. You began to miss seeing the real thing in this line of work. “Sure. You have a message for the captain?”
“No. Everything's in the file. Thanks again, Detective.”
Lowenstein waited until Tess was out of earshot. “That the psychiatrist?”
Roderick ran the folder through his fingers before he set it on his desk. “Yeah. Brought in the profile for Harris.”
“Looks like Harper's Bazaar ,” Lowenstein murmured. “Classy, though I heard she left with Paris last night.” With a chuckle she gave Roderick a pat on the arm. “She raise your blood pressure, Lou?”
Embarrassed, he shrugged. “I was thinking of something else.”
Lowenstein stuck her tongue in her cheek. “Sure. Well, I hope she knows her stuff. Better than a Ouija board, I guess.” She flung her bag over her shoulder. “Bigsby and I are going to interview some of the regulars at Doug's. Keep the home fires burning.”
“Bring back a lead, Maggie.” Roderick dropped back in his chair. “Or we might just have to haul out the Ouija board.”
Tess had turned the second corner when she heard someone cursing. When she looked back, she saw Ben giving a vending machine a hefty kick.
“Sonofabitch.”
“Ben.” Ed put a hand on his shoulder. “That's stuff's poison to your system. Forget it. Your body'll thank you.”
“I've got fifty cents in there.” Putting his hands on either side of the machine, Ben shook it and swore again. “Fifty fucking cents is robbery in the first place for a skinny piece of chocolate and a few nuts.”
“You oughta try raisins,” Ed suggested. “Natural sugar. Full of iron.”
Ben gritted his teeth. “I hate raisins, nothing but dried grapes.”
“Detective Paris.” Unable to resist, Tess had backtracked down the corridor. “Do you always have fights with inanimate objects?”
He turned his head but didn't loosen his grip on the machine. “When they hassle me.” He gave the machine another violent shake, but he looked at her.
She wasn't wet today, he noticed. And she'd pinned her hair up and back in a cool, sleek style that made him think of elegant pastries under crystal. Maybe she thought it was professional, but it made his mouth water.
“You look good, Doc.”
“Thank you. Hello, Detective Jackson.”
“Ma'am.” He put a hand back on Ben's shoulder. “I can't tell you how embarrassed I am for my partner.”
“That's
Krista Lakes, Mel Finefrock
The Sands of Sakkara (html)